Hercules in a Yugo
by David N. Brown
Summary: The greatest hero of Greece will atone for his crimes with great labors for a god-hating king... if he can keep his car running.
1. The Trial of Hercules

**While I'm trying to finish my "Zombie Vegas" series and/or my master's degree, I decided to try to get things going for one of my weirdest projects. The idea, essentially, is to adapt the "Twelve Labors of Hercules" to ca. 1980's Yugoslavia. While this is intended primarily as an ebook project, I have decided to make at least some of the adventures available free. So, here's the opening chapter...**

Throngs of thousands lined the streets of Athens to greet Hercules, the greatest hero of Greece. But there were no cheers at the approach of his chariot, a Zastava Jugo 45, but only sad or curious or simply morbid mutterings. The hero had returned victoriously from a year in war, to face a tribunal for his deeds.

Another car preceded Hercules, a Zastava 750 "Fica". This was the humble people's car of Attica, and vehicle of choice for the wise, cunning and compassionate Theseus, King of Athens (a title no one talked of taking from him when he insisted that the city adopt a democratic government), the slayer of the Minotaur, and Hercules' attorney. His car was first to halt before the great courthouse of Athens, and when the Jugo of Hercules halted behind him, he emerged. He was short and stout, his body subtly muscular, his head squarish and going to bald. He strode to the Jugo, and murmured as he opened the door: "Stay the course, friend."

Then out, like rabbit from a too-small hat, came Hercules. He was reckoned as huge, and as strong, and as brave, and as graceful, and as wise, and as well-tempered, and as hirsute as a bear. It seemed impossible that he could have fit inside the car, still more impossible that he could come out again. But his poise was such that he seemed to pour through the door. There was an innately jovial quality to his face, but this day his expression was sad, so profoundly so that it almost doubled back into silliness.

Hercules entered wearing his best and favorite suit, which was made from the hide of a lion. When the hero and his counsel took their seats, the trial began promptly. It opened with an address by the mad king of Eleutherae, who was reckoned madder than most kings, who stood and declared, "War is Hades, but this simply will not do!"

"Does the accused wish to address the court?" said the chief of the judges.

Hercules rose immediately, and said: "Honorable gentlemen... I know I have done a terrible thing. I will accept any punishment you impose." He dropped back into his seat, which visibly sagged under his weight, buried his head in his hands and began to sob.

The prosecutor rose. "Does the prisoner then plead guilty, to all charges?"

After several nudges failed to draw a response from Hercules, Theseus rose and spoke: "My client neither confesses, nor denies, anything he may be accused of. If the honorable prosecutors say Hercules did this thing or that, we will accept his word." The prosecutor's brows furrowed in surprise, but his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "But Hercules cannot confess to any deed. For he has sworn to me, by the most solemn oaths, that before the things for which he is now being tries happened, something like a red cloud fell upon his mind, and he cannot remember anything that happened until it lifted."

Hercules sobbed louder. An old woman jumped to her feet and shrieked half-intelligible curses until the guards removed her. The judge inquired with a raised eyebrow, "And Hercules will swear to this?"

Hercules lifted his head, and it seemed his eyes dried remarkably quickly as he rose to his feet. "I swear," he said, raising his hand, "on Zeus, and Olympus, and the Styx, and my father's tomb, and my own manhood... I remember nothing." He sat down again and resumed sobbing, even more heavily than before, so that his heaving chest shook the table behind him.

"Is it not wisdom," Theseus said, "that no man should be punished for a deed he has no knowledge of committing?"

"Wise counsel indeed, Theseus," the judge said with a nod, though his eyebrow had yet to drop. After long moments of pondering, he said, "Very well. It is my office to conduct the affairs of the court, in hearing whether a man did a deed. But the state of a man's mind is another matter. Unless the prosecution can speak to that, I must defer to the jury to deliberate at once." The prosecutor scowled, and his assistant rose to protest, but the assistant was waved down, and no protest was made. The men of the jury shuffled back to their chamber.

It was well past noon before the jury returned. The judge read the verdict: "The jury finds that, as there is no question of what the great Hercules has done, but only the state of his mind when the deeds were done, the men of the jury are unfit to decide his guilt. For mortal men may judge each others' deeds, whether they be good or evil, but only the gods can judge a man's mind. The jury therefore finds that the defendant should be set free."

The prosecutor's assistant rose to protest, but the prosecutor waved him down. Theseus rose confidently from his seat, subtly smiling. But Hercules shot to his feet, throwing back his chair and slamming his hands down upon the table with such force that it cracked thrice over. "How can this be justice done?" the great Hercules roared. "If an evil deed has been done, then a penalty must be borne! I call in the names of all gods, let justice be done! Punish me, that I may bear it!"

There was a long silence, in which every man barely moved, but only stared at Hercules and the ravaged docket. Finally, the judge spoke: "Since the verdict has been protested, and since the verdict as delivered is not a final finding, I ask the jury to reconsider."

So, the jury filed out again, and the sun was low in the sky when they returned. Hercules was still standing, his very hands still upon the cracked table. This time, the foreman addressed the court aloud: "We men of the jury affirm, on our honor and the names of the gods, that we will not and cannot consign a man to punishment for a crime we cannot judge. However, we cannot deny the great Hercules the right to be judged, and if need be face punishment. Therefore, since it is settled that the great Hercules' guilt or innocence is a matter of his mind, which only the gods may see, we will render a further ruling: That the great Hercules should go to an oracle of the gods, and if, by the words of the gods who see the minds of men, he is found to have done evil, then the same oracle shall prescribe his penalty."

Theseus once again rose, his smile now a broad grin. "We have done it! The prosecutors cannot defy the jury by trying you again. Now, we must only speak to an oracle, any oracle, and if the oracle does not find you innocent, then at worst, you will be asked to render a sizable offering at one of the temples."

"No," Hercules said. "I know in my soul, that I have done a great evil, that only my freedom or my blood can pay for. None who truly speaks the words of the gods could find otherwise." Suddenly, his face broke out in an entirely alarming grin. "I know! The Sybil of Delphi, the very Oracle of Apollo, is in town! She can deliver a judgment, and then I will be free to be punished!"


	2. Oracle of the Caravan

It happened that, for the last decade, a state of war had sundered the land of Greece, with the most immediate cause being disputes over the worship of the gods. For some men worshiped Zeus, as god of gods, and held his seat to be Olympus. But some still worshiped Kronos, father of Zeus, and still others shared in the worship of the Son of Kronos, but worshiped him by the name of Jupiter. Thus, the various lands were divided between the temples dedicated to Zeus, and to Kronos, and to Jupiter, and time and again, rivalries between the temples had boiled over into feuds, of which the most prolonged and bloody had been between those who professed to serve the same God. Yet all had honored as most sacred sanctuary the Temple of Apollo, Son of Zeus and God of Truth.

But then, in the days of Hercules' boyhood, the lands of Greece had been invaded by the Etruscans and Hyperboreans, who lived and fought like the most lawless savages but were armed with terrible engines like the wrath of the Gods. Before Theseus had united the peoples to drive them out, the Hyperboreans had inflicted terrible destruction, and by low cunning had incited their vassals and rivals among the Greeks to still greater atrocities. Everywhere, temples had been sacked and desecrated, the very graves defiled. Then, in a foul deed which even the invading barbarians most adamantly declaimed, one or several parties had shelled the shrine of Delphi to rubble. In consequence, the Sibyl, great oracle of Delphi, lived as a landless exile, conducting her business from a barrel-shaped wooden wagon pulled by a BMW Isetta.

By the last light of day and into the night, Hercules tracked the car and caravan down the road from Athens until the Oracle stopped for the night in the woods around Parnassus. The hero watched the Sibyl get out of the little car and into the caravan, and waited almost another hour to let her settle. Then he rushed in and pounded on the wagon. "Sibyl! Awake! I must hear the words of the gods!"

"Who are you?" came the tired but angry reply. "Go away! If you must have the words of the gods, come back tomorrow! The gods will still be there in the morning!"

Hercules rocked the wagon. "I will be on my way tonight! I must hear the word of the gods now!"

"_Hercules!"_ the Oracle snapped abruptly. "You brazen glutton, how dare you approach my shrine!"

"I go where I like! Now speak to me!" Hercules roared. He pounded the wagon with his fists until it reared up on two wheels, imploring and cursing and soon sobbing.

"Enough!" said the Sibyl. A window in the front of the wagon shot open. "There is no chance that I would open my door for you, but I will grant it to you to listen, and perhaps I will speak. Now, what would you ask of the gods?"

For a moment, Hercules was dumbfoundedly silent. Then he stepped before the window and stammered, "Have I sinned?"

"_**YOU?!"**_ the Sibyl exclaimed sardonically.

"That is not what I mean!" Hercules said with gritted teeth and red face. "I am sure you know, that I was put on trial today. They say I did terrible crimes, yet I cannot remember the deed. When I told them that, they let me go. They said they cannot punish me, because they cannot know my guilt without knowing my mind. I protested, and their answer was that I must seek the word of the gods, who alone can know the minds of men. And so I come to you, highest oracle of the very God of Truth, to know whether I have sinned, and what penalty I must suffer."

The Sibyl gazed at him, and sighed. "All men know that it is my gift by the will of the gods to hear their words and speak it in truth," she said. "What men do not know is that it is also given to me, perhaps by the same gift or else by a lesser gift, to see much that is in the hearts and minds and souls of men. Often I find that it is of more avail to use this gift, and speak what truth it shows me, than to wait upon the gods to speak or mortal men to heed them. What I see by this gift in you, is nobility, of a kind, a nobility that makes you question yourself. Since you already question, I shall put to you another question: What is it, in your own mind, that makes you ask if you should be punished, when your fellow mortals would set you free?"

"I know that a wrong was done," Hercules said, "and if a wrong was done, then it must be right, and just, and the will of the gods, that the one who did the wrong must take the blame and suffer the penalty."

"You speak the truth, for your own mind," the Sibyl replied. "But how sure are you that what your mind tells you is truth, and the whole of it? Suppose there is a boy who lives alone with his mother in the mountains, because his father departed and never returned. Winter comes, and the gods send a bitter cold wind. Soon, the wood they have runs out, and the boy's mother sends him out to cut down more wood. But the boy has only a small, dull ax, and the trees on the mountain are big and tough, or else worthless saplings and stumps. The boy asks for wood from his neighbors, but none will share. One of these neighbors is an old man with wood enough for two winters, but he lies and says he has none. Then he tells the boy that he knows of a grove of good trees, where there is would enough for them both. He leads the boy to the grove, and lends the boy a good, sharp ax. The boy cuts down one of the trees himself, because the man says he is too old, but still gives the old man half the wood that he cuts. And so the boy, unknowing and deceived, cuts down a tree from a grove sacred to the gods. Is it just, then, that a curse of the gods should fall upon the boy for an unintended wrong that was meant to do good, and not the deceitful old man, or the uncharitable neighbors, or even the gods themselves, who sent the bitter wind?"

Hercules shook his head. "The gods are the gods, and men are men," he said. "What the gods have decreed, men must fulfill, and it is the decree of the gods that wrongdoing must be punished."

"I think it is not the decree of the gods that you hear, but the decree of your own heart," the Sibyl said. "But perhaps the voice of your heart is itself planted by the gods..."

"Hades blast you, double-talker," Hercules said, and he lifted the wagon. "Yes or no: Is it the gods' will that I be punished?"

"Even I cannot bid the gods to speak, and I hear no voice from them on this matter," the Sibyl said. "But by the sight the gods have given me, I can give you this counsel: It is the voice of your heart which tells you you must suffer. Whether this voice is planted by the gods, or a lying demon, or only your own doubts, I cannot say, and it need not matter. If a man cannot stand justified before his own soul, then there is little chance that he shall be justified before the gods.

"Therefore, I bid you, not by the words of the gods, but by the sight the gods give me, to go, and serve your fellow men. Then, if you have wronged your fellow men, you can atone by serving men, and if you have wronged the gods, you can atone by bringing good in the name of the gods. And if it is only the bidding of your heart to suffer, then at least you shall learn also to serve.

"I further bid you, do not offer your service to any man, but to one of whom I tell you, and you shall know of whom I speak. This man is not a lover or beloved of the gods. Indeed, he is called accursed of the gods, and he curses the gods in turn, even declaring that they are not gods. Serve him, by the very names of the gods he denies, and you shall have as much grace as mortal man can have."

"I swear by the gods, and the Styx, and my father's tomb, and by my own manhood," Hercules spoke solemnly, "I will do as you say."

The great Hercules' shoulders sagged as he returned to the Yugo. Theseus stirred in the passenger seat. "Would she not speak?" he asked.

"Oh, she spoke," Hercules said. "She bids that I go to Mycenae, and serve King Eurystheus."


	3. The Road to Mycenae

**Here's about half of a chapter in the manuscript at hand. I have debated whether or not to have a "cliff hanger" break in the middle, and decided to try it here. I already expanded this part to add some material about Theseus, who is my personal favorite among the Greek heroes. I first read about the Greek myths in elementary twenty-some years ago, and I don't recall if I read the cycle of the Labors of Hercules. But I can remember very clearly that even then, I _loved_ Theseus.**

To the south of Attica, the lands of Greece were split by twin gulfs, the Gulf of Corinth and the Gulf of Solon, with only the isthmuth that was the lands of Megaris and Corinth to join the north and south. With the division of the land by the sea came also a great division of power. To the north, Attica and Boethia led a coalition of kingdoms, a benign dominion built on learning, trade and mutual interest. But directly across the Gulf of Solon from Attica was Argolis, whose king had made himself Tyrant over the lands of Achaia, Arcadia and Elis. The combined lands were called Mycenae, and stretched from coasts of Argolis to the Adriatic, and southward all the way to the country of the indomitable Spartans. The tyrant was called mad King Eurystheus, and he was reckoned a cousin of Hercules, and madder than most mad kings.

In the early days of the reign of King Theseus, the lord of Attica had negotiated the peaceful ceding of Argolid land held by Corinth to the empire of Mycenae, and as a further gesture of good will, he had made it his first project to build two bridges which together spanned the Gulf of Solon from Attica to Argolis, as a token of enduring good will and mutual prosperity between the kingdoms. The twin bridges had been a marvel, colossal yet soaringly graceful. Theseus' first act as king had been to meet Eurystheus on an island where the bridges joined, to dedicate the bridges and pledge friendship between their realms. Theseus made a speech, praising Athena the Wise, and Zeus the Just, and asking the blessing of the Gods of Olympus to bless both kingdoms. Then Eurystheus cheerfully made his own speech. He declared that Athena was not Wise, Zeus was not Just, and the Gods of Olympus were not Gods and like as not were nothing. His realm, he said, would have no more gods who were no gods, and no more meddling by those who would serve them. Then he pushed down the plunger of a detonator, and blew the bridge behind him into the sea. Immediately thereafter, Eurystheus had lined the isthmus with bunkers, barricades and minefields, blocking every route save for a single, well-guarded bridge.

Then a spring flood washed the bridge out.

Hercules traveled along a rutted road from Corinth that was more ruts than it was road. The Jugo 45 handled the path about as well as a river barge on stormy seas, and every bump and drop was like a kick in the kidneys. Hercules swore heartily, but without any especial wrath. Theseus managed lopsided conversation beside him, and an armor bearer named Iolaus suffered in silence in the back. Their progress remained steady as the Jugo traversed the plains, but increasing numbers of urgently worded signs and blown-up vehicles suggested that it would be very prudent to switch to a route through the mountains, where the terrain might be less favorable to travelers but was equally unfavorable to laying mines in large numbers.

The road to the mountains was actually an at least marginal improvement, but the terrain soon took its toll on the little Jugo. The car slowed and soon began to struggle as it went up ever steeper roads. Then, as Hercules rounded an especially sharp turn curve on an especially steep path, the engine gave a final wheeze and died.

Hercules jumped out, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rock the vehicle. Theseus followed, which was fortuitous, as Hercules first lifted the front of the car, and then heaved the whole vehicle over his head. "You Hades-blasted machine!" he roared. "Vex me no more, or I swear, you shall accelerate from 0 to 60 in 15 seconds going straight down!"

Iolaus leaned out the hatchback and cried out, "Please sir, I don't want to die before my first battle!" Theseus was about to point out gently that this could not bring them to their destination any sooner, when the engine abruptly restarted.

"So, Hercules," Iolaus said as they drove onward, "what was your first adventure?"

"Ah," Hercules said expansively, "I suppose my first adventure was when two snakes crawled into my crib... I do not remember, of course. But my mother told me that she came when she heard me laughing. She says I had wrapped one snake around the other's neck and strangled them together."

"What of you, Cunning Theseus?" Iolaus asked.

"I waited to go adventuring until I was twenty," Theseus said. "I walked to Athens. But first, I had to remove my father's sword from under a rock. He had left my mother to go to Athens the day after I was born, and he said I could follow when I was able to remove the rock and pick up the sword..."

"But then, I suppose my first real adventure was when I slew the lion of Thespia," Hercules continued. "Not much to tell, really. Most of the work as finding the thing. I made my favorite suit out of it, and my favorite hat, too."

"Yes, that was the tale that made me decide to try an adventure," Theseus said. "I left three years later, as soon as I got that sword out from under that rock... It took me that long to get the saltpetre right. I could have taken a ship, but since it was supposed to be an adventure, I walked, and a few people tried to kill me on the way. There was Sinis, the one who bent down a pine tree and tried to make me hold onto it... And of course there was that inn keeper, Procrustes, who insisted on showing me his bed. Funny thing, he didn't think twice when I asked him to get in it... Then there was the cleverest one, I believe his name was Sciron. He was old but strong, and he had a clever trick: He stepped into my path on a narrow path on the edge of a cliff, limping as if he was weak, and knelt before me and announced that he would wash my feet, meaning to grab me by the ankles and throw me off the cliff. But I had heard of his tricks, and I kicked him off the edge."

"Wait a minute," Iolaus said, "I heard Sciron made people kneel down and wash _his_ feet, then he _kicked_ them into the sea."

Theseus paused, frowning. Hercules broke the silence: "But then I guess my first real adventure was when I saved Thebes from an army of Ant-Men. They looked pretty silly, with those fuzzy little feelers, but boy, could they march in formation..."

"You saved Athens?" Theseus grumbled. "I was the one who built the lens..."

"Oh," Iolaus spoke up, "and what about the voyage with Jason?"

There was a long, very awkward silence. "Ah... the Mighty Hercules prefers not to talk about that," Theseus said guardedly. There were miles of silence before the king of Athens spoke again, only to say, "Where's the border station?"

"Oh," Hercules said, "I'm sure we will know it when we see it..."

"And then what will you do?" Theseus pressed.

"Why, I will tell them I am Hercules," Hercules said happily, "and if they doubt me, I will prove it. Who would want to bar my way?"

"Not anybody who had to do it," Iolaus said nervously.

As he spoke, an ax head as wide as the car slammed down directly in front of the car.


	4. Sinis

**...And now the conclusion. To the best of my recollection, I got the idea for this scene from one of the Oz books. It was after I had the scene in mind that I decided to tie it in to the adventures of Theseus, and came up with the resolution. The first draft of this scene was, to my recollection, the last of a document I created for this project this spring, and the only one I didn't create from a hand-written draft. Then, tragically, I lost the file when a flash drive was damaged. The present scene is a reconstruction entirely from memory, and I believe it actually is pretty much the same.**

"_**NONE,"**_ a voice boomed down from high above, _**"SHALL PASS."**_

Eyes followed the giant ax handle up, and up, and up. 4 meters above the ground, they saw the joining of two metal legs that straddled the road. Three meters higher was the chin of a great bronze face. Theseus got out of the car. "Please, sir," he said, "I am Theseus, lord of Athens, and this is the great Hercules! We come in peace, to seek an audience with King Eurystheus!"

"_**BY THE ORDER OF KING EURYSTHEUS,"**_ the giant's voice boomed, _**"NONE SHALL PASS."**_

"But sir," Theseus said, "our errand is to offer King Eurystheus the services of the great Hercules!" As he looked up, a strange expression was on his face that was more than just concern at the obvious threat. He was, in fact, feeling the first signs of the phenomenon known as _deja vu_.

The giant raised his ax and leaned down. _**"WELL, THAT'S A NEW ONE, ALL RIGHT," **_he said, modulating his voice downward as he spoke. "_**Still, orders is orders. Nobody comes or goes without permission of King Eurystheus... **_**And I gotta say, hardly nobody ever tries to come."**

Iolaus scratched his head. "But... how can we get Eurystheus' permission when we can't see him?"

"Surely," Theseus said, "you must have ways to send word to your lord."

"**It don't come up, much,"** said the giant.

"But you must make reports to your lord," Theseus pressed.

"**I report if there's trouble,"** the giant said with a grin, **"an' if nobody goes through, why, there's no trouble."** He gave Theseus an odd look, his expression much like Theseus' own. **"Say, have we met? I shouldn't think so, but I have a hard time remembering little guys. Not that it comes up, much."**

"But you aren't out here all by yourself," Iolaus ventured, "right?"

The giant eased, resting an elbow on a cliff face. **"As a matter of fact, I am, pretty much. Used to be, there was a buncha guarding this pass. But they kept running away. Now there's just me, and it suits me fine: Lots of space, beautiful scenery, little guys to talk to now an' then, 'fore I make 'em goes **_**SPLATS**_**."**

He leaned back and gazed up as he continued, **"Used to be, I did this sort of thing for free. I was up north, back then, and I staked out a nice place on the road to this big city. Little guys would come through, and I would play this game. I split a pine tree top to bottom with me ax, see, and I bend down one half with one hand, and I stands in the path with me ax in the other, and I says, **_**`PLEASE KIND SIR, HOLD THIS TREE, FOR IT SHOULD HIT ME IN ME EYE IF I LETS GO, AND I SHOULD MAKE YOU GO SPLATS IF YOU DON'T.'**_** Then, it they takes it, the pine snaps up, and they goes **_**EE**__**EE**__**EE**_**and then they goes **_**SPLATS**_**. An' if they says no, of course, I swings me axand they just goes **_**SPLATS**_**."**

Theseus stared. "Sinis?!"

Iolaus stared in turn at the hero. "Wait, I thought you killed him!"

"Well," Theseus stammered, "there may have been some errors that crept in during retelling..."

"I met a guy who told me he heard you say that you saw Sinis torn in half with his own pine trees!"

"Well, I made certain reasonable inferences-"

Theseus cut himself short at the thunderous laughter of the giant. _**"WHY- WHY- YER THE **__**CHEEKY LITTLE GUY THAT GOT BY ME!"**_ He chortled deafeningly. "**Why, you little guys have gotta hear this one! So, see, I tells this little guy to hold the pine tree, same as always. But he don't do it or say no. He says, **_`But sir, if I take hold of the pine tree, it shall snap up and fling me through the air, and I shall as you put it "goes __**SPLATS**__" __regardless. But if you split another tree and bend it down, and I take a tree in each hand, one will balance the other.'_

"**So I's thinking, well, won't this be fun. If this cheeky little guy don't goes** _**EE**__**EE**__**EE**_**and then **_**SPLATS,**___**then he get split just like the pine trees. So I splits another tree, and I bends it down, and then this little guy says, **_`If it is all the same to you, I don't think I should like to help you with your pine tree, as you bent it down yourself and it will be your own fault if you are hit in the eye. And since you don't seem to have a free hand to stop me, I believe I shall run away.' _**An' then he runs away."**

Sinis lowered his ax, contemplating. "**Y'know, this little guy turned me life round, really. There I was, just making little guys go** _**SPLATS **_**with no thought of doon' nothing that matter, that get me places. So I says to meself, why, if that cheeky little guy can make a living using 'is head, so can I! I shan't stand by the road jus' making little guys goes **_**SPLATS**_** no more. I shall find a place where me talents are appreciated, an' little guys shall pay me to make t'other little guys goes **_**SPLATS.**_

"**That settles it. I don't care what Eurystheus says, I shall let you go through, for the little guy that showed me how to make something of meself... Hey, where'd they go?"**

The trail had certainly never been meant for cars, but with the mighty Hercules carrying the car, it was manageable enough. "Can't you go faster?" Theseus said, leaning out the window.

"I certainly could if I shed a passenger or two," Hercules growled.


	5. Anteus

**Here's an adaptation of my personal favorite among Hercules' adventures, which I decided to move to the beginning of the saga. My concept for the character is based on the American folktale of Br'er Rabbit and the Tar Baby.**

Hercules soon found a marginally acceptable road that ran along the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. After a time, they passed an odd little temple with a domed roof with a large hole near the top. Over the protests of his companions, Hercules stopped to take a look. Out of the temple came a strange man, short and stout, covered with dust, sand and gravel. "I say," Hercules said, "what is your name, and to whom is your temple built, and why is the roof not complete?"

"I am Antaeus," said the stranger, "and this is a temple to Mother Earth and Father Sky, and there is a hole in the roof because it is not yet finished, for I have not received enough donations."

"I should like to see your temple," Hercules announced.

"I should prefer to wait in the car," said Theseus. But Hercules was already following the stranger into the temple.

The ceiling of the temple was painted the blue of the night sky, with paintings to represent the constellations complete with tiny holes, invisible from outside, that shone like the stars themselves within. The floor was bare earth save for the center, which was the base of a statue that supported the arches of the roof upon its shoulders. Hercules stepped forward to inspect it, while his host stood by the door. "Why, this is an idol of Atlas, bearing the Sky above the plain of the Earth," he said. "But the wise men of Athens say that the Earth is a globe in a shell of sky, and now many tell that Atlas must bear up the globe within the sky. Your temple is not even finished, and it is out of date."

Meanwhile, Iolaus and Theseus were inspecting the half-finished dome. "I wonder," mused the armor bearer to the king, "what is that roof made of? It looks almost like ivory, yet not quite..."

"I know," Hercules said to his cursing host, "the Athenians are always dreaming up new things to make their fellow men feel foolish. But what can any mortal do about it?"

"This Temple is for my family," said Antaeus, clenching and unclenching his fists in cold fury. "For I am a Son of Earth and Sky, and Atlas is my brother. I built this temple in a day, but I had to wait for donors to complete the roof." As his muscles flexed, some of the dirt that covered him fell away, giving glimpses of a black hide beneath that seemed to shine like oil.

"Well, it is a nice temple," Hercules said absent-mindedly. "Say, what did you make the roof out of?"

At that very moment, Theseus spoke to Iolaus: "It is bone..."

"But I shall finish it, and you shall help me," Antaeus said. He shut and locked the temple gate, and planted his feet in the doorway "You shall wrestle me, and the prize shall be your freedom against a small donation to my temple, and when I have beaten you, you shall donate your skull to fill the hole in my roof. It shall be perfect, so big, and very thick."

Hercules grinned and cast off his tunic, assuming a wrestler's stance at the feet of the idol. Antaeus did the same, and when he raised his hands, Hercules saw that his palms appeared to be covered in the stickiest of tar. Then Antaeus tramped forward, reaching for the hero with arms that shed the covering dirt as they stretched to greater length, revealing not the hide of a man but the shining skin of a creature _made_ of tar.

Iolaus emptied an AK 47 into the lock of the temple gate. "It's too strong for small arms fire!" he shouted.

"Hades blast it," Theseus said as he rummaged through the trunk, "I was _sure_ I packed my chemistry set!" Iolaus jumped back at a great crash that shook the gates from within.

Antaeus sprawled oozing in the doorway. His back was twisted as if in a knot, one arm nearly torn off, an ankle maimed and his head caved in. Hercules stared warily from where he stood, still upon the statue's base, his skin and the pavement around him stained with the prints of his foe. It was well that he was so cautious, for as he watched, the maimed arm slithered back to its place like a snake, the broken back twisted true, and as the Son of Earth rose to his feet, his head resumed its shape like a tire reinflated. "Well done, great-grandson of Earth, for no other even half-mortal has ever survived a grapple with me. But the stones on which you stand took from me my full strength, which is in my father the Earth. But now I stand upon the dust of my Father, and as long as both my feet are planted firmly, even you cannot break my grip."

As he spoke, his stretching arms shot across the temple like serpents, grasping for the hero without moving for an inch. Hercules moved as if to circle the statue, and one arm followed him while the other reached around the statue. But then the hero ducked under the reach of the Son of Earth and charged straight for where his foe stood, with the heel of his still-mending foot half upon the dust and half upon the stone of the threshold.

A moment later, Theseus and Iolaus gaped as a thing the size of a man but in a shape like nothing that lived or could live crashed through the roof of the temple and sailed onward far out to sea. "Too bad," Hercules said as he emerged through the much-enlarged hole in the roof. "It was a nice ceiling."


	6. Hercules and the King of the Crabs

**Now here's a scene inspired by a minor monster that figures in the story of the Hydra. I found the creature intriguing enough that I thought about making it the subject of its own Labor. I decided to settle for making it a "threshold" guardian, and thought of a storyline to fit the style of a fable, complete with a "Just So" resolution. **

Soon, it came to pass that the Mighty Hercules drove his Jugo 45 past a cave by the sea. As they passed the cave, a large crab darted out of the cave and halted in their path. Before the hero could think to swerve, a rear wheel went over the crab, and the the tire burst. Hercules hit the brakes, and without turning off his engine he jumped out to change the tire. The spare was under the hood behind the grill, and the heat and fumes from the engine scalded the hero's hands and reddened his eyes. Cursing, he set down the spare and started to lift the car, but lost his grip and dropped the car on his own toes. Theseus stepped in and used the jack. Hercules popped off the hubcap with his storied Crowbar, and when several lugs were stubborn against his wrench and tire iron, he generously applied his own teeth.

Hercules looked back at the cave. The sound of the tide could be heard from somewhere in the depths. But over it, and growing nearer and louder, could be heard a strange clicking. Seeing the king's unease, armorbearer Iolaus climbed out of the back seat and picked up the Crowbar. Then Theseus pointed. From out of the cave came another great crab, or else the same one somehow survived, advancing with the sound of like metal castanets. Its carapace was as wide as a man's breast and covered with sharp spines as big as nails, and its whole shell was made of gleaming steel. While Hercules fumbled with the tire with ever-mounting curses, the armor bearer strode forward to meet the crab. But the creature dodged a blow and darted past, and then Hercules gave a fouler curse than usual. Iolaus whirled to see the crab gripping the hero's already-injured toes.

Iolaus ran to help his uncle with the crowbar raised, but Theseus halted him with a raised hand. "For now, the creature only grips," he warned. "If you attack it, it may rend and crush, even in death."

"Give me the crowbar," Hercules said, glaring into the crab's glowing eyes, "and I will kill it if it takes my whole foot off."

"Go ahead, smash me to pieces if you can," said the crab. "Your doom is sealed."

"It speaks!" Theseus exclaimed.

The lamps of the crab's eyes shifted toward him, their beams narrowing and brightening. "I am Cancer, Lord of the Crabs. I grip the wounded foot, and my people follow me. That cave is our home, whose walls no creature may climb, but we use it as shelter from our enemies, and when the rising tides threaten to drown us, we ascend together, every crab helping his brothers. Then we lay ourselves under foot, and when one of us wounds the heel of a passerby, he takes hold, to slow the prey till others arrive and add their weight, more and more until the prey is overcome and dragged to the cave, and then we all of us feed. Do you hear the sound from the cave? Do you see the lights in the deep? It is my people coming to the feast!" Indeed, as he spoke, another crab skittered from the mouth of the cave, and another, and another, while scores and hundred of pairs of glowing eyes rose like a great swarm of fireflies from the darkness behind them.

"So," Hercules said, "you hunt the weak and the crippled? Then I shall give you sport!" He snatched the crowbar from Iolaus and struck, not at the carapace of Cancer but the legs, and three feet were crushed by the mighty blow.

Cancer, unfazed, turned his eyes to the first two of his fellows. "Come my brothers," he declared with a wave of one of his claws, "and take hold of this man who thinks he can turn crabs against their king! Wait! Halt! I am your king!" The nearest crab snapped a pincer at King Cancer, who had to parry with his free claw. Then a second crab seized him from behind and started to drag him back, and the King of Crabs let go of the hero to fight off his subjects. A stab of his claw severed a leg from the crab that held him, but a slash of the other could not stop the other crab from taking hold of him. Then two more crabs grabbed hold of the one the king had maimed, only adding to the strength that pulled upon the King.

Then with a sweep of the crowbar, the mighty Hercules sent the lot of them tumbling into the cave, to crash into their fellows with more crunching of shells, and the rest withdrew back into the cave as the mass of wounded and entrapped tumbled down and down. Whether the crabs killed Cancer their king, or held him in the depths until they drowned together, no tales tell. But it was said that ever after, a curse of the gods was placed upon the kin of the treacherous crabs, so that whenever two or more crabs fell into a trap, they would never again join their strength to gain their freedom, but only grip each other in enmity until they perished together.

Within another hour, the Jugo of Hercules was at last upon the Argolid plain, and soon they saw the still-distant walls of Tyrins, fortified by Eurystheus to be mightier than ever. The road was reasonably good, but there seemed to be unaccountably few vehicles to use it. They passed a Unimog truck, and were passed by another, but the first other car they passed was a black Mercedes Benz sports car. Then they passed three more Mercedes cars in rapid succession, one of which seemed to trail them for a short ways.

"You know, people must have misjudged Eurystheus," Hercules said, waving an arm expansively out the window. "Everyone says that he has impoverished his country. But if that were so, why is it that every car we have passed, and even those trucks, is made by Mercedes Benz? Why, look! Here is another one!" Sure enough, yet another black Mercedes was dead center in the rear view mirror.

"It appears," Theseus said, "to be a police car."

"Yes," Iolaus said, "and it looks like he wants us to pull over."

Hercules did so without question, and he happily emerged to greet the officer. "Good morning good sir-! What? My name? Why, I am the mighty Hercules, the- The car? Why, of course it is my car! What am I doing with it? I am driving to Tiryna to meet lord Eurystheus. Perhaps you can give me directions...

"My signature? But of course, so men may know that you met the mighty Hercules! Ah! You wish for me to ride in your car? Even better! My friends too? Wonderful!"

It was some time before Hercules' grin began to fade, as the police car came to a stop. "Why," he exclaimed, "this does not look like the palace of Eurystheus."

"It looks," Theseus said caustically, "like a jail."


	7. Dyanera

**Here's a "transition" chapter, which introduces some backstory and a major character. I worked in a speculation about two actual ancient cities featured in the mythology, some references to Albanian customs, and the famous theme song from an infamous 1960s cartoon show (which, incidentally, I never heard of before researching this project). I debated whether this will fit the rating, but I believe anyone mature enough to know the basic story won't have a problem. That said, be forewarned... even _I_ think this is pretty terrible.**

Long before Eurystheus declared himself Tyrant of Mycenae, there had been Old Mycenae, and all Greece had been its dominions. The tale of the first founding of Old Mycenae was this: Princes of old Crete had founded the port of Argolis and settled the plain, but the settlers had soon fallen into feuding baronies. Then one baron had built a great citadel called Mycene on the border of his realm, and with it he repelled all attacks and soon began exacting harsh tributes from his neighbors. Then his closest neighbor, his own brother, built an even greater citadel called Tyrins only a short march from Mycene. Each baron had gathered allies and vassals to his citadel in preparation for an assault to overthrow his rival. But then, on the eve of battle, the brothers reconciled, and together they took the city of Argolis, and exacted tribute from Crete. Afterward, he empire they went on to forge together was called Mycenae, and the single, sprawling city that grew between their citadels was called Tyrina.

In the days when Eurystheus' family made new Mycenae from the rebellious vassalages of bygone Troy, old Tyrins was in neglect and Mycene was long in ruins. When Eurystheus himself took the throne, he renovated Tyrins as a palace district for himself and his chief officials. But Mycene he rebuilt into a true fortress, which served also as treasury, administrative center for lesser but essential and sensitive functionaries of his government, and a prison for especially troublesome inmates. It was to new Mycene that the mighty Hercules was brought in chains.

"_Hercules! Hero of song and story,_" the hero sang to himself in his cell, "_Hercules! Winner of_- something, something... _Hercules!... _Da da da dum dum dum dum... _Hercules_..." He gave a broad, hopeful smile as the cell opened, and then the smile became a less pleasant grin. "Why- a woman, in the uniform of a warrior?"

"I am Major Dyanera i Dexamenos of the Mycenaean Military Police," said the woman at the door. She had her hair cut short and tied in a simple bun, and wore a plain olive-green uniform that neither accentuated nor minimized her feminine figure, which was clearly impressive by any standard. "I am here to determine if you are leading an invasion, or only very, very stupid. Follow me."

From another cell, Theseus and Iolaus watched the woman walk briskly by, with Hercules trailing right behind her. "By Zeus," the hero said, "trousers become a woman even better than a man!"

"I see that I can make this brief," the major said.

Iolaus said to Theseus: "He is going to get us killed, isn't he? If he angers her, she could have us all shot. But it would be worse if she shows any favor to him. Then her superiors could charge her with being seduced by a spy_,_ have us all shot, and _then _call it grounds for war with Attica..."

"It's not as bad as it looks," Theseus said. "Hercules has always been ardent for pursuing women, but winning them is another matter..."

"Sit down," the major said as they entered an interrogation room. Hercules was more than happy to comply. He pulled out a chair, turned it, and sat at a perfect angle to watch his theoretical captor close the door.

Dyanera sat down, her reddened cheeks growing more so under Hercules' gaze, and slapped a thick file on the table. "First and foremost," she said, "if you think that you can win your freedom by flattering me, you are _badly_ mistaken. It is my duty to investigate your case. It is not in my_ power_ to set you free, even if I wished to. What I will do is make a report to my own superiors. I can even recommend whether to set you free, or charge you as a spy, and my comrades have learned to respect my word in such matters. Thus, you have every reason to try to win my good will- but consider carefully which courses might truly help your cause."

The hero leaned back with his shackled hands behind his head. There was a loud pop, and he held out his hands with the broken cuffs as if in surprise. "Sorry. Do you have another pair you would like to put on?"

The woman warrior sighed with exasperation, but managed to speak with cold composure: "I do not believe you understand the seriousness of the situation you have created. Lord Eurystheus and his counselors takes the security of his borders very seriously. Even brief trespasses have brought full mobilizations of our armies. So what do you think he will make of it when you, a renowned warrior, drive into our land heavily armed?"

A look of concern did finally rise in the hero's face. "Armed?" he said. "But I come in peace, to serve Eurystheus."

"There was an AK-47 and 300 rounds in the back of your car," Dyanera said.

Hercules raised his open hands. "Strictly for self-defense. More of a ceremonial piece, really."

"...And we're still identifying the contents of your trunk."

"Ah... I have been meaning to clean it out."

"To be sure, Hercules can scarcely set eyes on a woman without getting it in his mind to woo her," Theseus assured Iolaus. "But he rarely stays at it for long. If he finds that a woman is wife or betrothed to another man, he will withdraw from her at once. For sworn temple virgins, I have seen him press on for a time, but clearly with no intention of persisting to the end. And among the women who are free to be had, even those who invite him, many more elude him than come even briefly into his grasp."

"Dyane- do you mind if I call you Dyane?- you are comely as only a maiden can be, but surely you are of age to be a wife and mother," Hercules said. Indeed, the major was 24, well past marrying age in most parts of Greece. "Surely, many men have pled with your father for your hand. Are you pledged as a temple maiden, or do you keep the memory of a groom who fell?"

"In our land, there are no temples, and no woman is given as wife unless she wishes it," Dyanera said curtly. "If you wish to know my story, I come from the province of Achaia, where some old customs still stand as law. When I was still a child, my father pledged me in marriage, and by custom it was required that I give myself to my groom when I reached sixteen years, or else be forbidden to marry any other man. But Eurystheus, by another law based on old custom, offered a loophole: A maiden woman may present herself for service in arms as her father's son, and if she serves ten years in the army of Eurystheus, she shall become a firstborn son under the law, heir and master of herself. Eight years ago, I made that choice rather than be wed to a groom I had cause to fear."

"How unfortunate for that man of your father's choosing!" Hercules said. "But how fortunate it would be for you, if by the same path you learned what it is to be loved by a better man."

"But Hercules has been married," Iolaus said.

"Yes, by the laws of statistics, it had to happen once in a while," Theseus said. "But he has never been with one woman for long. It is not in his nature- surprising as it may seem!- to break a marriage vow, or even look to another before the bond is dissolved. Even so, sooner or later, he grows restless, I believe less from the demand of fidelity than at living under one roof, and his lady finds either the wish for another or merely weariness at holding a man against his own nature. Then they part, lawfully and quietly, and Hercules goes his way until he falls into the same pit again."

"But why," Iolaus wondered, "does he not merely choose the life of a eunuch?"

Theseus sighed. "In the end, I suppose, he simply likes the chase, even if he does not care for the catch. But then, that is why there is no need to worry. Why, even if that woman were to offer herself to his conquest, like as not, he would merely stand there wondering what to do!"

At last, Dyanera pushed aside the folder, stood up, and stared into Hercules eyes. "Very well, great Hercules! If you were that better man, just what is it you would show me?" As the hero stared into her flushed but unflinching face, his own grew ever so slightly pale.

The voice was muffled, but even so the song of Hercules could be heard clearly throughout the jail: _"Softness in his eyes- Iron in his thighs- __**Fire in every part...**__**Of the mighty HERCULES!**__"_

"We're doomed," Theseus said.


	8. Shiva Guards The Authorization Process

**Here's another chapter, from an "episode" still in progress. I often come up with gags, and then hold onto them until I think of a way to work them into a story. One of the scenes here is such a gag that I first thought of way back in middle school. Given the form of the present story, I decided to add some explicit Hindu mythology, though I decided I felt more comfortable with a little ambiguity.**

When the three men of Attica appeared before the gathered commanders of the post, Iolaus had his head in his hands, Theseus looked stoically grim, and Hercules was grinning broadly. Major Dexamenos' uniform and hair were slightly but noticeably less neat as she addressed her superiors: "I am completely satisfied that these men have not been sent as spies or scouts, nor are they acting as agents of Attica. Rather, they have come peacefully and of their own accord, with the intention of aiding King Eurystheus. Much of the fault for the present situation lies in weaknesses in our border security forces, particularly lack of communication."

"What is your recommendation?" an old general inquired sternly.

"The prisoners say that their purpose in entering our land is to have an audience with Lord Eurystheus," Dyanera said. "I propose that we act in good faith, and allow them to proceed toward their goal. Transfer them to Tiryns, and notify Eurystheus of their request. Then he may admit them directly, or make them pass through screening by the city administrators and his staff, or refuse them, or punish them himself if he finds fault or falsehood in them. But if we do not send them to Eurystheus, then I see no lawful alternative but to expel them from the realm. For they are not our citizens, and we have no proof that they are at arms against us or that they have committed any crime by the law of our land, so we cannot by any justice imprison them."

"But they drove into our realm in an automobile," said the general. "Citizens of Mycenae cannot own automobiles."

"But they are not our citizens," said another general, who was a woman. "In any event, the usual penalty is a fine and seizure of the car, not prison."

Hercules was puzzled, and spoke aloud: "You say no one in Mycenae can have a car? But I saw three Mercedes Benz cars on the way here!"

Dyanera turned back and said, "Officials of the government are provided with vehicles to assist in their duties."

Hercules scratched his head. "Why not let the people have cars too?"

"Our realm is poor," Dyanera said. "We could not afford enough cars for everyone."

"But in Greece, we have Yugos, and they are cheap," said Hercules. "We could sell them to you. Why, for the price of one Mercedes for a government man, you could buy fifty commoners a Yugo!" He smiled happily.

"Perhaps," said Theseus, "but for everyone to have a car, there would have to be an infrastructure of parts dealers, repair shops and gas stations to support them. Not to mention major renovations to the roads..."

"Yes," said a colonel, "and besides, if we bought some of the workers cars, then their fellows would be unhappy with them because they didn't get one."

"Then how do the people feel about you and your Mercedes Benzes?" Hercules inquired of the colonel.

"Buy them Yugos," Iolaus chimed in, "and jealousy will not be a problem."

"Enough!" said the male general. "We are not here to explain our lord's laws to an unshaven barbarian! Now major, you must understand, that this matter is most irregular, and Lord Eurystheus does not like irregularities."

"Neither do _you_ like _reporting_ irregularities," said the female general.

"Even so," the old general continued, "I suppose you have made a fair case. I authorize the transfer of the prisoners to the office of Eurystheus' Chief Administrator, who will review the case. You will escort them."

At last, Theseus smiled, and even Iolaus looked hopeful. "Surely," the king of Attica said, "we are on the path to good fortune!"

Dyanera, however, did not look happy at all. "You don't know the Administrator," she said succinctly.

The hills of old Tyrins were a place of pleasure and luxury, but the walls were as strong as ever, and none could wander at will without the approval of the Chief Administrator. The heroes followed the major into an especially large bunker and beheld a strange sight. It looked like an idol of the strange gods of the east, a figure of green stone with a dozen arms, seated incongruously behind a desk piled high with papers. But then the figure moved. As the Atticans watched in amazement, the figure that was the Chief Administrator finished consolidating and straightening four stacks of forms that reached more than halfway to the ceiling. The Administrator carefully laid out four ink pads and picked up four large stamps. Then suddenly, with the speed of a striking mantis and the deliberation of termites on an assembly line, the Administrator stamped every single one of the forms with a deep red "DENIED". Scarcely a fraction of a minute passed before he at last looked to his guests and said with a smile, "How might I help you?"

Dyanera set down a paper on the desk. "I have an application for these men to receive an audience with King Eurystheus." The Administrator did not look down. Dyanera added two more papers. "In triplicate."

The administrator did not touch the paper, but but on a pair of glasses and scrutinized the form with the detached attentiveness of a scientist studying an animal dropping. "It appears to be in order," he said, taking off his glasses.

"Well?" Theseus said after more than a momentary pause.

The Administrator looked up as if surprised that they were still there. "Is there something more you would like?" he said.

"If you can find no problem in our paperwork," Dyanera said, "then approve it, so we can go on our way."

"Hm," said the Administrator, "it seems to me you are already on your way. You are as all your kind: You are living, you are breathing, you have recently eaten and will shortly be excreting, after that you may be breeding, and soon enough you will be dead and decomposing. And I must say, I can't see why you are always in such a hurry. But then I am a trillion years old, so perhaps you lack my sense of perspective."

Dyanera crossed her arms in anger, but did not speak. Theseus did: "But sir, here and now, it is your _job_ to allow us forward or send us back."

"My name is Shiva, and I have many jobs," said the Administrator. "I am the Beginner of Worlds, and I am the Destroyer of Worlds. I am Life, and I am Death..."

"You are an automaton that Lord Eurystheus purchased used from a Persian merchant three years ago," Dyanera said.

"Perhaps I am that too," said the Administrator. "In any case, surely you can see that I am a wise and great and beautiful and majestic being, and you are not. So why should such a great being as me raise one of my beautiful hands for such a small thing for such a wretched thing as you?"

"Why not?" answered Theseus, and the face of Shiva smiled.

Beyond the Administrator's desk was a corridor that led to the back door. As the heroes walked out, they heard the administrator say: "Hm. This ink bleed through the papers. Perhaps if I stamp a form with another under it, I can stamp them both at once. Perhaps a third, too..."


	9. The Pyramid of Tyrins

**Here's the rest of the misadventures up to the chapter I am currently working on. I had a bit more, which provided a more dramatic "cliffhanger", but I decided to save it for a little later. The "palace" described here is a real and infamous structure built as a monument to the Albanian dictator Enver Hoxha, whom I have chosen as a model for my Eurystheus. In fairness, the actual monument wasn't built until after Hoxha was dead.**

Within Tyrins, mansions, cafes and spacious parks were behind walls of concrete and tasteful barbed wire, but there was a throughway where the common people were tolerated, and certain buildings where they could enter. There was the Palace of Culture made of concrete and glass with stylized bas reliefs of columns and arches in imitation of the temples of Attica, and a heroic museum that looked vaguely like a big piece of cheese. Then there was Eurystheus' own palace, commonly called the Pyramid, a low and sprawling structure of roughly twelve sides on the site of a demolished palace of Eurystheus' father.

"It does not look much like a pyramid," said Iolaus.

"Certainly not the ones in Egypt," said Theseus, "but it has precedent... Really, what it most resembles is a barnacle."

The faces of the Palace varied in shape, from long and shallow slopes in front to straight-walled wedges in back. The major and the heroes approached from the front, behind a group of school children, and passed a seven-meter piece of sculpture that looked like a steam-powered combat exoskeleton built for a _Gigantopithecus_. Suddenly, the "statue" stepped in their path, thrusting out a gauntlet whose spiked knuckle came closer to the ground than its knees. "I am Cacus, Chief of the Palace Guard," the monstrosity said. A spherical helmet or head set lower than the massive shoulders swiveled downward to survey them through a slit that glowed dull red, giving much the same impression as a traveler inspecting something stuck to his boot. "Who would enter the palace of Eurystheus?"

"I am Major Dyanera i Dexamenos, as you well know, and these are the Great Hercules, Prince of Thebes, his nephew and squire Iolaus, and Wise Theseus, King of Athens," said the major, defiantly meeting the giant's slowly brightening visor. "I have this paperwork, granting them a petition to see Lord Eurystheus."

She thrust out a stamped form like a charm against a demon. The visor of the giant flared bright for a moment, and the paper burst into flames. "What paperwork?" said Cacus.

While Dyanera held the giant's attention, the Cunning (and quite agile) Theseus ducked under the giant's arm and around its elephantine foot with a duplicate form in his hands. "This paper!" he shouted, and thrust the form under the greaves that covered Cacus' backside. While the metal giant was trying to extract it, the major and the heroes hustled to the Palace gate.

The main hall of the palace was roofed by a glass face of the pyramid. Just inside the entrance, it flared out and then narrowed, creating a discrete atrium, decorated tastefully with potted plants, the flags of the kingdoms of Mycenae, and a slightly larger-than-life-sized statue of Eurystheus in noticeably weathered marble. "What is this place?" said Iolaus, peering down the hall. "It looks less like a palace than a museum."

"It is a museum," said Dyanera. "Eurystheus made it so."

Iolaus, still perplexed, persisted, "A museum of what?"

"Himself, of course," said Theseus.

As the major and the heroes circled around the statue, a man in a plain grey suit stepped in their path with smiling face and open arms. "I am Moliones, Secretary of Lord Eurystheus," he said. "What are your names, and what is your business?"

"I am Dyanera, and these are the Great Hercules, his nephew, and his friend, Wise Theseus of Athens. We are here to seek an audience with Lord Eurystheus," said Dyanera.

"Might I see your paperwork?" asked the Secretary.

"If it is all the same, I should prefer to hold onto it," Dyanera said guardedly.

"Very well," said Moliones, and turned. But then he was facing them again, now with a stern face and crossed arms. The new face spoke: "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"I am Major Dyanera i Dexamenos, as you well know, and all men know the Great Hercules and Theseus," Dyanera said. "We have permission to see Lord Eurystheus." She held out the last copy of their form like a baited hook.

Moliones inspected it. "The paperwork seems to be in order," he said. "Follow me, and see the glories of Lord Eurystheus."

"We are here for an audience with Eurystheus!" protested Theseus. But Moliones had already turned his smiling face, and began walking with seeming backward strides down the hall. When Dyanera followed him, the heroes followed her lead.


	10. The Path of Eurystheus

**Okay, so this took a while. It's mostly a lot of backstory, which I felt Eurystheus deserved. It should be obvious that this is a retelling of modern history; in fact, I made a significant revision to work in some new research I did in the process. I picture the stormtroopers as something like a design I came up with for the Exotroopers "Space Nazis" story. I'm debating whether or not to try to do any more with them. The "centaurs" introduced here, however, will most certainly be back...**

It was a tale told early and often that in the early days of the reign of Lord Eurystheus, he declared to his counselors that he would have a great pyramid for his tomb, like the Pharaohs across the sea. But, he said, it seemed wasteful to build such a thing for a dead man, when the Epicures had shown that a man's soul was a vapor that perished with his body. Therefore, he would build his own tomb, and make it a mansion he could enjoy while he lived. So he razed a mansion his family held on the highest hill of Tyrins, and built his pyramid in its place. Afterward he declared that his chief counselors and servants of his household should gather with him in his pyramid, as the servants of the Pharaohs did to their masters. Thus, the pyramid became the center of the government of Tyrina and all Mycenae. Then afterward, when his counselors and servants who dwelt with him mentioned ever so discretely a certain apprehensiveness at the fate of the servants of the Pharaohs who survived their masters, Eurystheus would only chuckle.

"Here is Lord Eurystheus' first Mercedes Benz," Moliones told the heroes as they proceeded through the store of the Lord's gathered possessions. "Here is Lord Euystheus' first wife's Mercedes Benz..."

"Second," muttered Dyanera. At that, Theseus gave a curious "hm?", but she said nothing more.

The voice of the guide for the school children echoed from ahead: "Here is Lord Eurystheus' suit. Here is Lord Eurystheus' tie. Here is Lord Eurystheus' coat..."

"What, no underwear?" mused Iolaus.

Hercules hitched up his belt. "I do fine without it," he said.

Moliones chuckled. "Of course, Our Lord indulges in a certain amount of silliness, especially for the children," he said. "But it is the silliness of a jester, to teach a lesson: That Eurystheus, though a Tyrant, is still a man like other men, and if he rules, it is because other men will to be ruled."

"Really?" said Iolaus. "I thought it was because the other men didn't have guns."

"Oh, every household in the realm has at least one gun," said Dyanera. "Our Lord encourages it, so that we can better prepare for war. But _he_ keeps all the tanks."

They reached the end of the hall and center of the pyramid, where a circular well held a great column encircled by three balconies. "But here is something more substantial," Moliones said as he led them up to the second balcony. "This is the hall of Lord Eurystheus' war with the Etruscans and Hyperboreans, by which he made himself Tyrant of Mycenae." Arrayed about the balcony and the circumference of the column were paintings and photos, almost all prominently featuring Eurystheus. One of the few exceptions was an obviously old portrait of an old man in a rather minimalist crown.

"Eurystheus' father, Sthenelus, was ruler of Argolis, but never crowned its king. The rest of the lands of Mycenae were ruled by their own kings: Arcadia by Amphidamas, Elis by Augeas, and Achaia by Dexamenos, and also a large part of Argolis was occupied by the Tyrant of Corinth. Sthenelus was old, and the other kings reckoned him without the strength or even the ambition to make the throne of Mycenae anew. But after the unexpected birth of his son, he was like a new man. By his will, he became strongest of the kings, and by his strength, he made the rest his subjects, even making a vassalage of Corinth. But to enforce his will, he had to take money, arms and finally men from the Etruscans, who were themselves all but vassals to mightier Hyperboreans. The day came when his son declared to his face that he was a puppet king to another puppet, and the day would come when his strings would be cut. For that, wise Eurystheus was ordered expelled from Mycenae, but Eurystheus found shelter with Augeas, lord of Elis, who then arranged passage into the mountains of Achaia, which were then nearly lawless.

"At that time, there was a great migration of Centaurs into Achaia, and Sthenelus gave no heed to Dekamenos' pleas for aid when they began raiding. Many good men at arms perished trying to oppose or pursue the Centaurs, including every one of the sons of Dekamenos, and other men took to banditry themselves. Then the nine great mountain barons rebelled against Dekamenos, declaring they would each rule their own lands, as it had been before their forefathers chose one of their number to be king. But then the barons remembered old feuds and found new quarrels, and soon brought worse devastation on each other ant the land than the Centaurs and bandits. Eurystheus' first campaign was to aid Dekamenos in restoring order to the kingdom, not by brute force or trickery, but by negotiating equitable truces and giving aid to those in need." A painting showed two half-starved men smiling and shaking hands, while Eurystheus looked down beaming from the turret of a Fiat 3000 tank that pulled a wagon full of grain. "In the end, even the chiefs of the Centaurs pledged fealty to Dekamenos as king and to Eurystheus as Lord of Mycenae."

They passed a sculpture of a male centaur suited for a cavalry charge that nearly filled the balcony, though it was slightly less than life-sized. The man-like upper body was wholly encased in armor, and the right hand was covered or replaced by a great ax blade while the left arm was covered by a great shield with a light cannon mounted in the center. The lower parts were an armored but streamlined chassis, shaped vaguely like a boat upside-down and backwards, with two wheels on either side of the wider front and a large drive wheel within the tapered rear. The helmet bore a visor that completely concealed the face, and long, sweeping horns that marked a chief.

"Meanwhile, things went for Sthenelus as his son had warned. He was compelled to send his own loyal troops to wars abroad, and admit more warriors of Etrusca and then Hyperboreans in their place. He was even made to surrender the functions of his government to Etruscan administrators, until he was little more than a prisoner in his own palace. But even the Hyperboreans' terrible stormtroopers feared to tread in the mountains where Eurystheus made his strongholds." Their guide pointed proudly to a black spiked helmet, still instantly recognized and feared after a generation, with a single bullet hole through the eyepiece.

"Eurystheus soon drove his foes from the north, and ranged far into the Argolid. I myself gave them a stronghold in the land of Nemea." Moliones beamed as he showed painting showed Eurystheus shaking one of each of Moliones' two pairs of hands. "At last, aided by the armies he had gathered in the mountains, and a host led by Augeas, Lord Eurystheus heroically stormed Tyrina and captured his father in the palace. Then he led the heroic retreat when the Hyperboreans called down paratroopers on the city." He paused at a painting of himself and Eurystheus running away with Sthenelus held between them while a heavily-dented Cacus waved the tatters of a white flag before a squad of stormtroopers who had ceased fire while they unlimbered a flak gun.

"The Hyperboreans made no effort to restore Sthenelus to the throne, instead trying to kill him along with Eurystheus. But Augeas surrendered to the stormtroopers, and for reasons still disputed, mm, mainly by Augeas, the Hyperboreans installed him as ruler. Then a terrible campaign was launched to annihilate utterly Eurystheus and his supporters. The stormtroopers overran the Argolid and invaded Achaia from east and west. But they had stirred up even their servants against them, and even their warbirds and terrible Tigers could not match the wrath of the people. The Hyperboreans took a terrible toll, and still prevailed in any brute test of arms, but no loss they inflicted upon us could match the losses from their own small numbers and even more limited resources..."

"To be sure," mused Theseus, "and the time they lost an entire armored division in one week in Scythia couldn't have helped."

"All counseled Eurystheus to strike again at Tyrina, but he insisted that he must first take another prize. And he did, not by conquest, but by romance." He stopped before a large but faded wedding portrait, in which the bride and in-laws all looked to be smiling a little too widely, and Cacus was evidently best man. "He married Antimache, princess of Arcadia, and so became heir to its throne and commander of its army. From the courts of Arcadia, he gathered more allies, from Sparta , Attica, and the lands of West and East." Theseus frowned in recognition at an indifferently-shot photo of himself meeting with Eurystheus and two ambassadors who looked at each other very much like Eurystheus' in-laws did at the camera.

"With their aid, he executed in swift succession lightning raids that paralyzed the Hyperboreans, and then he again assailed Tyrina. Augeas surrendered, professing that it had always been his desire to give up the throne and return to Elis once the Hyperboreans were departed. That very night, Eurystheus received his crown from the priest of Apollo." A grand portrait showed Eurystheus taking the crown with one hand and holding a Tokarev pistol in the other. "Then and there, he pardoned Augeas and agreed to restore him to Elis in return for the pledge of a vassal, and there he reigns to this day. To Dekamenos, he granted the privileges of a full ally, particularly to govern the people of his land by their own laws. To Antimache, he apologized while denying any direct responsibility for the accidental shelling of her father's Mercedes. Then he declared himself Tyrant of all Mycenae, by his own will and strength, and announced to all present that they had but two choices: To swear to serve him as Tyrant till his death or theirs, or else try to take the crown from his dead hands. All took the oath." As Moliones spoke, he rubbed one arm behind his back.

There was a silence. From below, they heard the children's guide: "Here is Eurystheus' bookshelf. Here is Eurystheus' armchair. Why- here is King Eurystheus!"

"Eurystheus is here on the tour? Then we can go see him now!" Hercules said. The heroes hustled for the stair, but Moliones stepped in their path.

"What is the meaning of this?" Theseus exclaimed.

"I am Eurystheus' personal secretary," Moliones said. "None may see him without my approval. I do not give it."

Dyanera stalked up to him, thrusting out the precious paper. "We have our papers!" she shouted in exasperation. "We have a matter of great importance to state security! Why would you deny us?"

"It is quite simple," Moliones said. "These men have no standing to set foot in the Tyrant's presence."

"What are you talking about?" Dyanera hissed. "Eurystheus has never hidden himself away in his own courts. He calls himself man of the people, and he grants to every one of his subjects the right to an audience with him."

"To you, I would surely grant the privilege," said Moliones. "But what of these men? They are foreigners, and what standing do they have even among their own?" He gazed critically at Theseus, and scornfully at Hercules. "A king who gave up his throne, and a red-handed ruffian! Why should they be granted the privilege of a citizen?"

Dyanera sighed, and straightened. "If I have standing, so do they," she said. "As a woman in service as a man at arms, it is my right to ask to give myself to a husband, once my Lord releases me from his service. As a woman of Achaia, it is my further right to present any man I would wish to marry to my father, along with any kin and companions who can pledge for him. I invoke both rights."

She pointed to Hercules. "I pledge, that I wish to marry this man. I ask, as citizen, and woman of war, and as daughter of Lord Eurystheus, to petition for the right to give myself to him."

Moliones turned back his smiling face and said, "Follow me." Iolaus, with jaw dropped, and Theseus, frowning more than ever, had to take Hercules' arms and lead him after their receding guide.


End file.
